Disclaimers Here

Nick pulled the green Cadillac in an empty parking space close to the emergency room. As both men climbed out, he leaned across the roof and glared at his partner. "Really, Schanke. I don't *need* a large pepperoni pizza. I feel fine...really!" Nick pushed the Caddy's door shut and joined his partner on the sidewalk.

"Are you sure Nick? All that garlic, the cheese all gooey covering it, with a heaping mound of pepperoni to top it off will recharge your batteries." He grinned when a disgusted look crossed Nick's face. He was still chuckling at his partner as he followed the blond detective through the emergency room doors.

Schanke flashed his badge at one of the nurses behind the counter and started to ask her a question when Nick nudged his arm and said, "Come on. I see someone who would know." Don watched his partner striding down the corridor toward the approaching figure in white. She was young, blonde, pretty, and very pregnant. Schanke hurried to catch up with Nick, wanting one of the big hugs the petite nurse was giving his partner.

"Debbie!" He stepped up as the nurse let go of Nick and turned toward him. "Hi, Schanke. How have you been?" she asked as he wrapped her in a big, comfortable hug.

"Been fine. Looks like it's not too much longer, huh?" he quipped, smiling as he looked at her big belly.

"I hope. My back is killing me," she complained, smiling back. Linking arms with both detectives, she headed toward the emergency room desk. "What can I do for you two?" she asked taking several files from the nurse on duty.

"Debbie, we need to locate a new patient that was admitted a short time ago," Nick said, walking her back to the elevator.

"What's he here for?"

"Some loon took an active dislike to the guy," Schanke replied as the elevator doors opened.

"Then he's probably in ICU. Come on, I'm working that floor," she replied, smiling at Schanke's jargon as she stepped into the elevator. Nick and Schanke followed her onto the elevator. Filling the ride up with small talk, the three of them headed out the elevator when the doors slid open.

"Would you happen to know what the victim's name is?" she asked, as they slowly walked toward the nurse's station.

"Jeff Wolfe," Schanke answered as Debbie walked around the desk wall.

Dropping the files near the computer, Debbie eased into her chair and punched up the information the detectives needed. "Here it is," she said, smiling. "He's in 405. According to this, he suffered a dislocated shoulder...a couple of broken ribs...as well as multiple abrasions and contusions. He was given a strong sedative a short time ago to help him sleep," she informed them, then looked up. "If you need to speak to him, you had better hurry. He won't be awake for very long."

"Thanks, Debbie." Nick gently squeezing her hand in parting, then moved down the corridor she had indicated. Schanke gave her a big smile and followed.

Giving a quiet knock on the door of 405, Schanke followed Nick inside the room after a groggy 'yeah' was spoken from within the room. The young man lying in the bed was attempting to sit up as they entered. He looked to be about 25, with a thick mop of pale, yellow hair. Though one eye was swollen shut, the other, a pale blue color, cautiously watched them as they moved closer to the bed.

"Yeah?" he asked again, blinking.

"Mr. Wolfe?" Nick pulling his ID out of his coat. "I'm Detective Knight and this is Detective Schanke," he said, gesturing toward his partner.

"Yeah. What do you want?" The battered young man looked up from Nick's badge, his expression displaying his thinly veiled anger and fear as he wearily looked at the two men.

"We need to ask you a couple of questions, Mr. Wolfe," Schanke said, moving to stand at the foot of the bed.

"I told the officer that found me all I know," Wolfe stiffly replied, trying to hold back sleep as he glanced from Nick to Schanke.

"I know, Mr. Wolfe. We were hoping you might have remembered something since your initial statement. Maybe a description of your attacker?" Schanke asked.

"I didn't see him. He hit me from behind."

"Did you notice any odors, anything would help -- what hair color he had... how tall...?" Nick gently prompted.

"Could I have some water?" the pale patient asked, looking at Schanke as he evaded their questions.

"Ah, sure." Schanke looking around for a pitcher or glass to fill. Finding none, he threw his partner a knowing glance. "I'll go get a glass for you," he promised and left the room.

Nick moved closer to the bed, and caught Jeff's eye. "It would really help if you could tell us about this Mr. Wolfe."

The young man turned his head away and closed his eye, grimacing from the memory. When Nick called his name again, he looked back and became caught within the vampire's hypnotic stare.

*Thump, thump* "Tell me what happened." *Thump, thump*. Nick kept his voice low and calm, trying to ease the young man through the recent horrendous experience.

His gaze locked with Nick's, Wolfe softly replied, "I was walking to a phone."

"Where were you?"

"Partying. I met some...friends at the Raven." A small tremor passed through the young patient. "They left... Car died on the way...home."

"Tell me about your attacker," Nick softly insisted, pressing when he felt Jeff struggle against the memory.

"Big. With dark hair... and burning eyes! I couldn't...escape him!" The young man sobbed suddenly and jerked free of Nick's control. Turning away from the detective, he gingerly rolled onto his side, and began to softly cry. Within a couple of minutes he had fallen into a deep, drug induced sleep.

Nick inhaled sharply when he realized what Wolfe had confirmed. A vampire! he thought, angry that the vampire world he was trying to escape had once again invaded what he worked so hard to protect. "Great!" he softly mumbled, dreading the juggling which would be required on this case.

Schanke slipped back into the room, with a filled pitcher and glasses in hand. He noticed the victim was asleep, so he set the water down and followed Nick out the door.

Schanke let the door click shut and turned toward his partner. Nick had continued down the hallway a few feet, then stopped, and leaned heavily against the wall. "Did he have anything to say?"

"Not really. Unless we arrest all the 'big, dark-haired guys' we know," Nick replied, sighing.

"Nick, you don't look too good," Schanke said, watching his partner. Nick looked very pale, almost as bad as he had at the morgue earlier.

"I'm just tired, Schanke," Nick said, pushing off the wall. "Come on, let's get back to the station." He reached out, letting his fingers briefly brush across his friend's arm.

As the two men walked down the corridor, Schanke lightly quipped, "You know... If you'd just eat properly, you'd feel much better."

Nick winced, hearing mentally LaCroix' voice saying the same thing. "Schanke, I..."

"Okay, okay...listen, Nick. How about a plate of spaghetti, then? I *know* you like spaghetti. It would do you wonders. I'll take you to this place I know..." Schanke's voice trailed off as the elevator doors closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The two detectives walked into a bustling squad room. Suddenly, a demanding voice cut through the room. "Knight! In my office."

Nick looked over and saw Captain Cohen standing just outside of her door, watching them walk toward their desks.

"Ah... Nick, I'll start looking through the information we have on this new attack victim." Glancing at Cohen, he leaned closer and whispered, "Good luck, buddy," and clapped him on the back.

Walking toward the captain's office, Nick was concerned. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything that would have him in the doghouse. However, judging from the Captain's expression, something had. To just get through the day without anything else happening. Sighing, he followed Cohen through the door and shut it.

"Nick, what has gotten into you?" Cohen demanded, reaching across her desk to grab a piece of paper that was lying on top of a load of reports.

Natalie walked up behind Schanke, who was intently watching what was going on inside the Captain's office.

"Hi, Schank," Nat said, looking around for Nick.

"Hi, Natalie." He gave her a quick smile, though he didn't pull his attention from the Captain's office.

Following his gaze, Natalie saw Nick being grilled by Captain Cohen. "What's going on?"

"Don't know yet. The Captain called him in there the minute we walked in."

"Captain?" Nick asked, confused as to what she was referring.

"This report! Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Uh...I don't know what..." Nick began to protest, when the Captain thrust the paper at him. Taking it, he looked it over, then reread it again. "I don't understand, Captain," he asked, looking up at the Captain, confused.

"Nick," she stated, exasperated, "What language do we speak around here?"

"English."

"What language is that report written in?" she asked, patiently leading him through the problem.

Nick looked at the report again: and suddenly saw what the Captain was referring to. "Uhhh, it's French, Captain," he stammered, a stunned look crossing his face.

"Look, Nick. Maybe you're more exhausted than you thought. It's either that, or this is one hell of a practical joke you're trying to pull." Walking to her door, she continued, "I would appreciate it if you would retype it for me... in English this time." She opened the door and waved him out of her office, with the report still in his hands

"Yes, Captain. I'll attend to it, right now."

"Good." She watched him walk to his desk and drop into his chair. "Oh, and Knight."

Nick looked up and said, "Yes, Captain?"

"Wait for April 1st next time," she deadpanned and re-entered her office, shutting the door behind her.

Nat and Schanke, their curiosity in overdrive, watched Nick as he sat staring at the report in his hands. He looked up and glanced over at them, then began to roll an empty report into his typewriter. When he began to type without a word of explanation, they couldn't stand it anymore.

"What was *that* all about?" Schanke whispered, with Nat standing right behind him.

"What?" Nick questioned, typing furiously at his keyboard.

"What was all that with Cohen about?" he asked again.

"I didn't fill out a report the way she wanted it," Nick hedged, not looking up as he finished translating the text to the new report. He balled the old report up and smoothly slipped it into his jacket pocket.

"Oh..." Schanke knew he wasn't going to get any more out of his partner right now. It was going to take some real pumping to worm any information out of Nick on what's really going on.

When Nick pulled the report from his typewriter and laid it in his out box, Natalie walked around the desks. She took him by the arm and murmured, "Come on. Let's talk." Gently urging him up, she steered Nick to one of the empty interrogation rooms down the hall. Natalie walked in, shutting the door after he entered, then leaned against the closed entrance, waiting. "Okay. Give," she demanded to his back as he continued to walk to the back of the room.

He was silent for a long moment, then turned, and looked at her. "I made a mistake on one of the reports I wrote last night."

"Oh, is that all?" She sighed, relieved it wasn't something major that he had done.

"You don't understand. I didn't write the report in English," he said, getting more upset by the minute.

"What language did you write it in?"

"An old dialect I spoke when I was a boy," Nick voiced, his thoughts far away.

"Look, Nick. You haven't been sleeping well, not to mention the fact you're overworked."

At Nick's unconvinced look, Natalie walked over and laid her hand on his arm. "It's a very 'mortal' thing to do when you're tired and distracted."

"Nat, it was a *stupid* mistake! A mistake I can't afford to make! And what's worse is... I don't understand why I did it."

"Nick..."

"Nat, that kind of mistake could raise a lot of questions. Questions I can't answer!" he insisted, interrupting her, worried. Walking around the table in the room, Nick turned back to Natalie. "Distracted or tired isn't a good enough reason. What if something unusual happened in front of Schanke or Cohen, instead of just showing up in a report?" He grimaced at the thought of any empirical evidence floating around that was connected to him.

"You're just tired, Nick." Nat walked round the table to stand next to him. "English isn't your first language. You just lapsed into your native language for a moment." A slight frown began to form on Natalie's face. "Is there a reason I *should* be worried?" Damn it all to hell: Nick and his secrets! "What's really bothering you?"

"It's just...I don't want a simple mistake I could have avoided suddenly forcing me to leave, Nat." Shoring up his defenses, Nick tried to calm his fears. No reason to worry Nat, Nick silently scolded himself. Taking a deep breath, he forced a small smile. "You're right. I'm making too much out of this. I guess I'm just more tired than I thought."

She smiled, somewhat reassured, but feeling the hints of anxiety prickling down her spine. Is something beyond fatigue wrong with him? She slipped her hand onto his arm, determined to reassure him. "I wouldn't worry about it," Nat soothed. There was a soft knock on the door, and Schanke stuck his head into the room.

"Come on, partner. I think I found us a lead... And one that is right up your alley, too," he said, a smirk plastered on his face.

To Chapter 7

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